Oh, you wish to hear my tale? It is of little importance. Still, your persistence would wear down mountains. Very well. You see, I was born with an innate connection to the elements. You may think that is extraordinary, but it was simply unlikely. There have been mighty Tortalian Druids in our past, and I was simply chosen to be the next. Never did I think I would end up rising to the heights I did.

My parents were lovely people. My mother, Chelona, and my father, Thalas. They were as good at their parental duties as I could have asked, ensuring my survival, and assisting in my endeavors. I’m sure some would take offense at their lacking presence in my youth but I never found fault in it.

After I came of age to journey, I felt a call in my soul. This was back when I was young and reckless, and bouncing to go on a quest. My parents were there to see me off. Us Tortles are a nomadic bunch, traveling in familial groups, but we had a tradition for our coming of age. We call it, The Wandering. The nascent adult would feel a call in their mind, a place to go, an expedition to undertake. Some never leave The Wandering, becoming traveling sages. Most complete it, however, and return to start new familial groups.

Mother, Chelona, had visited the druids of the Kalopian Forest. She learned the druidic arts there. She passed along some of these teachings to me. Not enough to become a druid by themself, but enough to spark my interest in nature. Father, Thalas, ventured to the coastal wizard towers on the Jardak Beach. There, he learned from the aquatic elves that lived there, and was taught the ways of the bladesong. An elegant dance, using traditionally elven movements, he adapted them to us Tortles. He gave unto me these ideas, showing that the bladesong is less a set of movements, and more aligning oneself to the natural flow of the weave.

Now, I felt my own call to Wander. It sang to me from somewhere to the east. It sang of foundations, and solidity in a forever changing world. So, with a pack of rations and a warhammer to fend off bandits, I set out. I traveled carefully, warily, and steadily. I Wandered, fearful, hopeful, and steady. I may hesitate. I may falter. But I am steady, and I refuse to fall. I encountered many interesting things in my Wandering, from a peaceful warlord, an inn ran by a dwarf who cared for an injured Tortle, and even a delegation from the Jardak College. It was there that I encountered my traveling companion, Mare Dyradalis. She had an interest in us Tortlefolk, and our Wanderings, as well as a deeper knowledge of the bladesong my father taught me. She was struck by the oddity of my performance. Where her’s, and the other elves, are sharp, elegant, and graceful, mine and my father’s are ponderous, yet no less graceful. The discipline is similar, but there’s a noticeable divergence.

Together, we made our way further east, towards my Calling. Along the way, we had set up a camp, like we had before. By this point, I had enough personal funds for luxury, and Mare appreciated the tent we purchased from the seaside tribes of the Grung. It had their traditional coral designs, showcasing several species of fish from the area.

We were crossing the Vfidla Desert, when we were ambushed by a patrol from the Greenflight Union. The Greenflight Union is a large group that started as an alliance between a couple Orc Warbands and some enterprising Aarakocra. Now, they use their flight tactics to bombard caravans and bully other groups into supporting them. At the time, we tried to convince the patrol of three Orcs and their Aarakocra leader from trying to ransack us. Unfortunately, they were unconvinced, and we had to defend ourselves. After a brief bout, I managed to simply knock out the Aarakocra and an Orc, while Mare handled the other two. After his companion fell, the last Orc held up his hands, yelling “Stop!”

That was how we gained our next traveling companion, Dain Orshool. He turned out to come from a family opposed to the raiding nature of the Greenflight Union. The Orshools have been pushing to return to the Orcish agricultural roots, but the Fureur Aarakocra clan has openly opposed this direction. Dain said he’s happy to assist in my Wandering, so long as he can go back to his clan whenever he needs to. Mare was apprehensive, so she and I discussed it, where I said he’s probably just trying to escape the wrath of the Union for deserting. I was correct, after confronting him when he stuck with us after we left the Desert.